The Hunger Games: Peeta's Story
by TayliaNinja
Summary: The entire book The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins written from Peeta Mellark's POV. Canon.


**Chapter One**

The square was almost full.

I was seated with the kids in my year, as usual. The kids next to me exchanged nervous glances and fake smiles as the late-comers found their spots. I sighed, looking closely at the stage like area where the ball of names was.

My name was in that ball. Even if it was only inside the ball one time there was still a chance. I knew that my chances of my name being pulled out were very slim. There were boys who put their name in twenty or so times. But I still could not keep myself from wondering.

The mayor began his usual speech. My mind drifted away as he talked about The Hunger Games and what an honor they are. But they were no honor. All they were was murder. I've always hated the reaping days. The mayor gives his speech on how District Twelve should feel honored and thankful for these games. The speech goes on for a long time and I spend most of it looking at the ground, hoping against hope that my name will not be the one to be called. There were thousands of names in that ball, I told myself. But there was still a chance. And as slim as that chance was, I could still have to be called.

But still I hoped it was not.

The mayor begins to read the list of the past victors of District Twelve. There are only two in a total of seventy-four years. Haymitch Abernathy, a middle-aged man with a paunch is the only one still alive. He staggers onto the stage, muttering words I cannot understand. Then he falls into the third chair next to the others on the stage. The crowd begins a polite applause, me clapping my hands quietly and looking closely at the stage. Haymitch seems confused and he tries to hug Effie Trinket, District Twelve's escort. She pushes him away as quickly as she can but not before he can make her pink wig unsteady on her pretty face.

The mayor is now introducing Effie Trinket and she runs up to the podium with a winning and fake smile. Then she says, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

My eyes move back to the ground when she begins her usual speech on what an honor it is to be here, even though I know she would do almost anything to be an escort to a better district. She smiles and speaks in her annoying accent that everybody from the Capitol seems to have. I block out her voice from my mind after a few minutes and let my eyes wander across the square.

I'm seated with all of the boys. Their eyes all show a trace of uncertainty and fear. But some of the eyes show determination, as if getting chosen will not be that big of a deal. And yet I wonder if they were really the ones chosen, would they still have that determined and strong look in their eyes? I guessed that they would not. I know I wouldn't.

"Ladies first!" Effie Trinket says happily. I look back up at the stage, finally letting her take over my thoughts again.

Effie walks over to the glass ball that is filled with the names of all of the girls. I hold my breath as she dips her hand in and slowly pulls out a sheet of paper. I look closely at her, trying to read the expression on her face. But then she turns around and walks back to the podium, and opens up the piece of paper so she can read it. Then, in a clear voice, she says who the girl that is chosen is.

"Primrose Everdeen."

I lean farther back in my seat, not recognizing the name of the girl. But then the impact of her last name hits me. Everdeen. That's Katniss Everdeen's sister, it has to be. I feel a huge stab of sympathy for the girl I have never met. I've seen her around the district occasionally. But I never have my eyes on the little girl named Primrose. They're always focused on somebody else who is always with her.

My eyes follow the little girl as she walks up to the stage. Her hands are clenched in fists at her sides, her face pale and drained of blood. Her light hair trails behind her, bouncing a little on her back. I look closer, trying to see the expression of her eyes. The blue beauties are determined but the shock is evident. I sigh inwardly, thinking of how this little girl is going to die soon.

Then I hear the voice.

"I volunteer!" Katniss yells breathlessly. "I volunteer as a tribute!"

My head snaps up. Katniss. I don't know how many nights I've stayed up, thinking of her and trying to get her out of my head. I remember all of the times I began to approach her before nerves got me and I ended up making an excuse to not speak to her. It's been so many years since she's even looked at me. But I'm always looking at her. She's in my dreams constantly, with her straight black hair, beautiful olive colored skin, and gray eyes.

"Lovely!" Effie Trinket says after a pause where the people on stage seemed to not know what to do. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we…um…" Her voice trails off.

"What does it matter?" the Mayor says loudly, looking at Katniss with an expression of slight pain. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

I don't want her to compete. I can't bear the thought of her going into that arena and fighting people. I don't want to have to watch it on live television. I cannot bear the idea of sitting around our family's old television and watching the girl I feel so strongly for loose her life. But then I looked back and notice the expression on little Primrose's face.

She's crying freely, screaming and yelling as she wraps her arms around Katniss. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

Katniss says something to her in reply that I cannot hear. She looks at Primrose with determination and I can tell that she's going through a lot of emotions at once. Her beautiful eyes are confused and determined at the same time and I find myself thinking that I've never been more in love with her than at this moment.

A young man appears at their side. He's good-looking and I immediately recognize him. It's the boy that I rarely see out of company of. He has dark hair, gray eyes, and olive skin-much like Katniss herself. He takes Primrose in his arms and pulls her away from Katniss. His eyes are confused and scared, but full of strength and determination at the same time. He says something to Katniss with an unsteady smile then turns away. Primrose tries fruitlessly to get away from him but he pulls her away easily, taking both of them off of the stage.

"Well, bravo!" Effie Trinket gushes, her eyes full of joy. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" She looks at Katniss closely.

Katniss looks at her steadily. "Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all of the glory, do we?" I frown, knowing that Katniss would never enter the Games for glory. I don't think any of the people from District Twelve would. We all felt the same way about the Capitol and The Hunger Games. "Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

I don't clap. I would never clap at the idea of Katniss Everdeen being thrown into the arena. Of course, I'd never clap my hands to honor the fact that any girl would be thrown into the arena to be killed. I notice that not one person is clapping. It's completely silent in the square of District Twelve and amidst the grief that's going through me I cannot help but feel a slight bit of pride for where I come from. It may be a feeble way of stating how we feel but it at least takes a small affect to the Capitol, showing them we do not approve of their murderous ways. Then something unexpected happens.

It started with a man towards the front of the crowd. His gray eyes looked at Katniss with a look of respect and determination. Then he raised his left hand to his mouth, ran his lips across his middle three fingers, then raised it to her. People begin to repeat the gesture, next with the adults around the square. Their eyes are all of Katniss with respect. I look around, waiting for the kids to start doing it also. The older males in the back begin to repeat the gesture. Then the boys around me are doing the same. So I do the gesture, a small and tiny bid of piece and farewell to Katniss Everdeen.

I raise my left hand, kiss my three middle fingers that are burned and marked from all those hundreds of hours around the oven, and show my fingers to her. I know her eyes are probably not focused on me at the moment and probably will never be. But this last show of respect she will see along the crowd of the rest.

"Look at her!" Haymitch yells, stumbling over to her. "Look at this one!" I watch as he puts his arm around Katniss and continues his approval speech. "I like her! Lots of…" He pauses and I can easily see the small amount of poorly concealed disgust on Katniss's face. "Spunk! More than you!" He releases Katniss and runs to the front of the stage. "More than you!" Haymitch points his fist at the camera. Then he plummets off the stage and falls unconscious.

Haymitch is taken away on a stretcher and the show is starting up again. Effie Trinket comes back to the podium and begins speaking in her accented voice. "What an exciting day!" She makes a sad attempt to fix her wig. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"

I hold my breath as she trots to the glass ball that holds my name somewhere in it. Then she pulls out a name quickly and walks back to the podium, smoothes it out quickly and then reads out the name.

"Peeta Mellark."

The world seems to turn blurry. My heart almost stops and I sneak in a quick breath. But somehow I find myself rising from my seat and walking towards the podium and the stage. I fight to keep a determined and strong expression but the shock is still going through my body. _It's me, _I think. _I'm the other tribute. _I'm going to have to fight in that arena. The chances were against me the whole time. My name was only in there once. But still I was chosen.

I climb up the steps and take my spot next to Effie Trinket and Katniss. Then Effie is asking for volunteers and I find myself hoping stupidly that somebody would step up and fight in my place. But I know that nobody will. My brothers are too old to take my place and I'm not even sure that they would anyway.

Nobody volunteers for me.

I wasn't expecting anybody to but it after nobody does it seems to seal my fate. I'm going to die in these games. I have no chance. My only defense if knowing various ways to make and take care of bread and I don't think that will help me kill people in the games. _But I'm going to try,_ I tell myself. Even though I will most likely loose, I'm still going to try my best. At least I'll try for my family. For my brothers. For my father, big and proud. For my mother, strict and slightly caring. For Katniss.

But as the Mayor starts his speech about the Treaty of Treason my mind realizes the fact that Katniss and I are going to be fighting against each other. I move my blue eyes onto her slightly as we stand a few years apart. Her gray eyes are determined and mysterious. I know that if we come to a point in the Games when we have combat, she's going to be the one winning. But I'm still going to try.

I can tell by the look in her eyes that Katniss is not listening to the Mayor. She's looking straight at the mayor but her eyes are elsewhere. I don't blame her and begin to remember the first day I saw her.

I can still remember her red dress and her hair in those two braids. I can still hear the sound of her voice singing loudly and beautifully. Her small body standing tall above us as she sings her heart out. I remember how I could not stop thinking about her and her voice from that second onward. And now she stands next to her, a lot older and yet impossibly more beautiful. And it's now I know I'm going to have the biggest problem in the world if it comes down to just the two of us in that arena.

The mayor finishes his speech and motions for Katniss and me to shake hands. I take her hand in mine and feel the warmth. Her hands are soft, yet tough in mine. They're rough for some reason that I do not understand and I think about how this might be the only time I'll ever feel her hand in mine and I try to remember this moment. I give her hand a small squeeze, trying to show I don't view her as just a person I have to kill. Then we let go of each other's hands and face the crowd. The anthem of Panem plays softly in the background and I take a deep breath and take my time letting it out.

_I'm the tribute_, I think in my mind again. _And Katniss Everdeen is the other._ My eyes move across the crowd one more time and I wonder how I'm going to get through the next few weeks and if I'll come out alive.

*****


End file.
